


Wake Me Up Before You Go Go

by Captain_Loki



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Angst, Coma, Crack, Curses, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Loki/pseuds/Captain_Loki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk gets cursed and falls into a deep sleep. Only true love's kiss can bring him out. Too bad McCoy is an idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Me Up Before You Go Go

**Author's Note:**

> As Previously stated: some crack, a dash of angst, a bit of fluff

“Coma?” Doctor McCoy shouts in anger and confusion, “What do you mean _coma_?!” He reiterates with a wave of his hand and a scowl of his eyebrows.

“A coma Doctor, surely you are familiar, the captain appears to have fallen into a state of prolonged unconsciousness and lacks a response to any stimulu, indeed it has become impossible to rouse him.”

“I know what a coma is you Vulcanic pain my a—“

“Doctor!” Chekov starts in shock. McCoy glares at the boy who widens his eyes and takes a step back, contrite.

“What happened?” McCoy growls, pushing past the two crew members and hurrying towards the med bay.

“He has been cursed!” Chekov shouts immediately, catching up to the doctor. McCoy stops short and stares.

“Cursed?”

“As I previously mentioned to Chekov, a far more logical explanation would be that the Captain ingested some kind of chemical toxin inducing such a state, whether by choice or unknowingly. It seems highly improbable that he was—“ Spock starts, hands clasped behind his back as they continue down the corridor.

“It vas a vitch!” Chekov says excitedly. “I have seen a vitch before, I know vhat they look like Doctor!” He tries, persistently.

“A witch?” McCoy says dryly, as though hoping he heard the boy wrong. Chekov nods enthusiastically. 

“As much as it pains me to say this Check, I think I’m gonna have to side with Mr. Spock over here.” Chekov looks crestfallen and trails behind.

“Vell I fink it vas a vitch,” he mumbles, bringing up the rear as the trio enters the med bay.

“What happened exactly?” McCoy asks hurrying to Kirk’s bedside. The captain is laid out on the bed peacefully. 

“Ve vere having drinks, and one minute ver vere laughing and the next,” Chekov slams his palm against Kirk’s bedside table with a loud smack. “the keptin just…collapsed!” McCoy looks to Spock who nods once in affirmation.

“Perhaps the captain angered someone. He could easily have been poisoned; the captain does not use discretion when dealing with…patrons.” Spock suggests.

“If by discretion you mean he’d eat, drink, or lick anything that anyone with a pair of breasts asked him to, then yes.” McCoy grumbles, staring down at the Captain. “Chekov unless you have any important information you can go. Spock, help me run some tests, see if we can’t prove your toxin theory.” Spock nods once in agreement. Chekov turns and leaves, stares at Kirk sadly before exiting the med bay. 

“Alright—“ McCoy starts before Chekov comes bounding back into the room.

“Oh yes Doctor I forgot, I have zis,” he says, holding up the PADD in his hand. McCoy raises and eyebrow and Chekov presses a few buttons, turns the PADD to face McCoy. A video starts to play of a woman, definitely not human, McCoy determines, almost _too_ beautiful, skin perfect, smooth and unblemished, a faint glow like an aura surrounds her and McCoy is overcome with a strange desire to do something completely amazing and heroic. 

“If you’re watching this than someone you know and love,” she starts, before her face is contorting with rage, “or quite possibly find vile and despicable and a complete waste of a pretty pretty face and space,” before she breathes deeply and becomes the unruffled image of perfection she was before. It’s startling. 

“Someone you know is lying in what appears to be a coma. You can run as many tests as you want, engineer as many attempts at a cure with the most advanced chemical equipment. But ultimately it will fail.” The woman looks haughty and annoyed before beginning to laugh with an evil glint in her eye. 

“I have cursed the one called… _Kirk_. _No one_ makes a mockery of Al’vana. I will not be treated as a-a-a _plaything_ for the likes of some petty human. Especially not for a _man_ ,” she scowls in disgust, and McCoy wants to press stop, for fear of retaliation on _him_ for whatever Kirk has done, before he remembers it’s just a video. 

It doesn’t really comfort him.

“I offered him my heart I did,” Al’vana starts to weep softly, huge beautiful tears running down her face, and if it wasn’t so terrifying it would be stunning. “I thought he might be _the_ one,” she nods softly. Her face twists into a scowl,” and then he stepped all over our love! Well he won’t get away no no no. The evil little—“ she _hisses_ , a strange throaty sound that has McCoy backing away from Chekov and the PADD in alarm.

“We’ll see how he likes it, being stuck in that state until someone that he _actually_ cares about can get him out. That vile bag of flesh loves _no one_ but himself. Well good luck with that one _James_. Only the kiss of a true love can break the curse. No lust or empty promises. Pure love!” Al’vana starts cackling then and Chekov hits the stop button and stares up at McCoy.

“Why the hell didn’t you show me that when I first asked?” McCoy growls. Chekov shrugs.

“I had forgotten Doctor.” McCoy can feel his eye twitch.

“If I may interject,” starts Spock. “I still find the notion of a curse _highly_ illogical. Perhaps, despite this…Al’vana’s warning we proceed as planned?” Spock suggests. 

“It vas a viiiitch,” Chekov sing-songs under his breath, but he goes complacently when McCoy waves him out of the sickbay. 

Despite Spock’s insistence and persistence in running every and any exam known and not known to man McCoy and Spock both come up empty in plausible explanations. Kirk lies still as ever on his hospital bed and the crew begins to worry.

Chekov, to Spock’s chagrin, continuously totes to anyone and everyone about the evil witch that cast a spell on Kirk. Sulu and Uhura dub Kirk, Captain Aurora. And many of the ship’s crew begins claiming all sorts of varied medical afflictions in order to catch an opportunity to test out their theory that _they_ indeed are Kirk’s one true love, which is the most annoying part of the whole thing. It is rather difficult accomplishing his duties as lead medical expert when McCoy has to spend the majority of his time chasing overzealous women away from molesting the poor captain. 

“I’ve never met more people with somnophilia Kirk,” McCoy tells the sleeping captain one afternoon when a young engineer leaves the med bay in hysterics after her failed attempt to rouse the captain. 

“There’s absolutely nothing medically wrong with you.” McCoy sighs, leaning over the bed, his head in his hands. Someone clears his or her throat behind him. McCoy turns, Uhura looks sympathetically at him. 

“As much as I love the peace and quiet, Doctor. Don’t you think its time we start…formulating _some_ kind of plan?” She asks, pulling up a stool and taking a seat beside him.

“What _kind_ of plan exactly?” McCoy asks, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“All of our attempts to find this Al’vana have failed. If she is telling the truth, we need to find _someone_ the captain loves.” 

“Good luck with that one,” McCoy sighs, standing up. 

“There has to be _someone_. I mean…I know I find the captain quite… _irksome_ …but deep down. I have…a great… _affection_ for the man.” Uhura nods, tensed, like it pains her to say it. McCoy simply stares at her.

“Then why don’t you give it a go,” he waves towards the captain. Uhura looks alarmed. 

“Well I didn’t mean…perhaps—“ McCoy raises a brow. Uhura flushes. “Well it can’t hurt to try…I suppose…” She steps past McCoy who backs away to give her room beside Kirk’s head. Uhura looks around, checking the room is indeed empty before pressing her lips chastely to Kirk’s. She straightens, looks almost relieved before pulling away and trying to compose herself.

“Well…” She says a bit snappish. “I don’t love him either.” She brushes past McCoy without looking at him and leaves the med bay.

“Breakin’ hearts while comatose Kirk, when you aim high, you really go for it.” 

“So, we’ve decided to let each and every member of the Enterprise have a go?” Scotty asks, staring at Spock and McCoy with confusion.

“Well it can’t really hurt to try, can it?” 

“Damn well can!” Scotty shouts, “after this pleasant experience who’ll be payin for me therapy ai?” Scotty asks. McCoy wants to punch him.

“Just get in there and kiss the damn captain!” the doctor shouts. Scotty does, with his eyes closed, and strangely with his nose plugged. 

“Do humans normally look like that when they express affection through the physical act of kissing?” Spock questions. McCoy kind of hates his life. 

When the last crewmember trails disappointedly out of the med bay Spock hands McCoy his data PADD.

“It would appear as though it is my turn.” He stands over Kirk as though surveying the best approach. He leans forward and presses his lips to the captain’s. He pulls away and repeats the process. McCoy starts in protest.

“What the hell are you doing man!” McCoy shouts, something heavy swooping in his stomach. 

“His lips taste familiar and I can’t quite place it. I believe it is strawberry flavored.” 

“Well that’s just dandy, but if you’d like to back away from my patient now.” McCoy growls, patience wearing thin, if he has to see one more person kissing Kirk he might punch something. 

“I have no feelings for the captain Doctor.” Spock says, head cocked to the side. McCoy balks in surprised. 

“Well—“ he starts, flushing. “Wonderful!” He turns away, tosses the PADD onto his lab station and sits heavily on his stool. 

“Doctor.” McCoy looks up and turns, hair rumpled from the hand he pushed through it.

“What Spock?” He sighs, exasperated and tired.

“You have yet to try. You are the last person.” McCoy makes no move to stand. Instead he stares at Kirk, then back to Spock.

“Me?” For some reason this moment slipped the doctor’s mind. In his effort to find a cure, to create a crew list, a schedule, possible alternatives to this bizarre plan, the fact that _he_ would have to try slipped his  mind. His stomach drops and his heart rate quickens.

“Haven’t I already?” He asks and Spock shakes his head.

“I do not believe so. Unless it was privately.” McCoy stands and shakes his head vigorously.

“Of course not. It won’t be me anyway we should really try to find some other plan _something_ we ah—“ McCoy falters, rustling papers on his desk and avoiding staring at the captain.

“The captain cares a great deal for you Doctor.” Spock’s voice is soft, a hint of some sympathetic understanding and McCoy shakes his head.

“No more so than the rest of the crew. Especially no more so than the hundreds of females who’ve already tried…pointless,” McCoy panders, unsure of his motivations.

“You must try Doctor, this _was_ your idea.” Spock reasons. 

“Teach me to have ‘em,” McCoy grumbles, standing up. He makes his way to Kirk’s bedside. He stares at the captain, lips shiny and wet and something hot stirs in his stomach, some rearing anger at the reason for the spit shined flesh and he scowls and turns away.

“I can’t.” 

“For what reason?” The scientist questions. 

“None of your damn business.” McCoy growls.

“What are you afraid of Doctor?” Spock asks, and McCoy turns back towards Kirk.

“Cooties. Who knows what Kirk’s picked up.”

“And if you are his last resort? You would rather not try?” Spock asks. Something stabs at McCoy’s chest and he shakes his head. He stares down at Kirk for another moment before steeling up his resolve and leaning forward. He closes his eyes, leans in close, can feel the heat coming off the captain’s body, smell him—which puts images in his head of sponge baths and nurses and he does _not_ need that image in his head right now thank you very much. He pushes his lips against Kirk’s and its highly ordinary, unexciting. Simple, quick press of lip against lip and McCoy is pulling back and staring down at the still lifeless form of the captain.

He doesn’t know what the feeling in his stomach is now. Relief? Or disappointment?

Kirk’s state doesn’t change over the course of the next week. What _does_ change is the atmosphere. The humor from the situation is gone and replaced with a blatant worry that fills the corridors with tension and sobriety, a mood that seems only to deepen wherever McCoy goes. People stare at him in the corridors, sneak glances in the café, and wonder openly at him on the bridge. Wherever he turns up unannounced, people fall into a hush, and he wonders if he’s being paranoid or if the entire crew does talk about him when he’s not around. 

“I thought—“ he catches in mumbled tones

“We all thought—“

“Can’t believe it wasn’t—“

“Shh Shh!” 

McCoy takes to hiding in his office, door open enough to keep and eye on the captain, but it doesn’t appear as if he’s going anywhere anytime soon. McCoy thinks its wholly unfair the entire crew blames him for this predicament, Kirk isn’t his entire responsibility, he’s a big boy and capable of making his own stupid decisions. 

He’s also beginning to wonder about the mental stability of the ship’s crew, the entirety of which has been acting increasingly strangely. At least once a day he’s accosted by _someone_ asking him in varied forms to fill out a questionnaire on his feelings for Kirk.

“Well it might be a good place to start if the crew comes up with reasons why someone might… _love_ the captain, yeah?” Scotty asks. McCoy stares at him.

“A’right, question one! ‘If you and Kirk were married who would be the little spoon?” McCoy refuses to treat Scotty’s black eye.

“Doctor! I have an important question,” Chekov asks him later. McCoy, despite his misgivings motions for the boy to continue. “What do you most admire about to our keptin?” 

“Doctor?” Spock starts, and McCoy rolls his eyes and sighs, pretending the other doesn’t exist. “When I first met Uhura—“

“Oh God, man, not you too.”

“When I first met Uhura she and I were just acquaintances. My mother was a human which in my own upbringing established a precedence of sorts for a relationship outside of my own species.”

‘Where is this going?”

“Although Kirk isn’t _exactly_ his own species—“

“Dammit Spock.” McCoy groans, throwing down his PADD and leaving the med bay and the scientist behind. 

“You’re a damn son of a bitch you know that Kirk!” McCoy shouts, later that evening at the Kirk’s limp form. “The entire ship has gone insane!” 

“I don’t know what they hope to accomplish. It’s clearly not gonna happen.” McCoy stops and stares, as though hoping Kirk will suddenly wake up and contradict him. He sighs.

“Dammit Jim I’m a doctor not prince charming! What the hell do they expect me to do huh?” The Doctor shouts, throwing up his hands.

“Why do you have to be so damn selfish _captain_ ,” he growls in annoyance. “Wake up!” He grabs Kirk’s shoulders and shakes, chest heaving. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore Kirk!” He yells, pacing up and down the space, waving his hands in the air.

“For God sake Kirk!” McCoy stops and glowers down at the captain. “What do they want? Huh? They wanna hear that…that I—“ McCoy sighs.

“That I’d do anything for you?” McCoy’s breathing slows and he collapses on the bed beside Kirk, staring down at the floor and avoiding the captain’s face.

“That it kills me knowing you don’t feel the same way, that I can’t pretend anymore that you do and I just never bothered to find out for sure?” He pauses. Then,

“That I love you?” McCoy whispers. He closes his eyes and leans over, presses his lips firmly to Kirk’s own, like it’s going to be the last time, and he knows with a pang it is. 

And then Kirk is stirring beneath him, and his lips are moving under McCoy’s and he’s kissing the doctor back, fervently. 

“God, _finally_.” Kirk shouts, sitting up. McCoy stares at him in disbelief.

“What?”

‘Man, I could hear everything. You know how _boring_ that was? And you! Can you be more daft Bones!?” Kirk shouts. 

“We did try helping him Captain.” McCoy jumps and turns, Spock, Scotty, Chekov, Sulu, and Uhura stand behind with happy albeit exasperated expressions across their faces.

“What?” McCoy asks.

“I had to be kissed by someone who’s love was shared and mutual. It didn’t work before because you were too stubborn to admit it.”

“Me?” McCoy scowls. “Don’t remember the conversation where _you_ admitted it either.” McCoy stands, crosses his arms over his chest and glares at everyone with equal vehemence.

“Yeah well, I’m pretty stupid remember?” Kirk smirks. 

“Hear, hear,” Uhura grins.

Kirk leans forward and presses his lips against McCoy’s. McCoy blushes and looks away, pleased, stomach happy and contented as Kirk slides an arm over his shoulder with a sly grin.


End file.
